Our Lady of the Rocks, Kotor, Montenegro. Photo / Greta Umbers
Our Lady of the Rocks, Kotor, Montenegro. Photo / Greta Umbers
Montenegro's ancient city of Kotor weaves its magic around Greta Umbers.
Inside Kotor's fortified walls the lilting tones of disembodied conversations carry over from the courtyards around every corner: broken English and a medley of Slavic and Romance languages embrace in the most European of ways and settle into the warm cobbles in every storied square.
Here, history mingles casually with souvenir shops, contemporary restaurants, and casual bars. And, despite the abundance of antique stores and grey-haired cruise-goers, Kotor sparkles with a youthful effervescence, buoying your energy just enough to keep you from sliding into blissful oblivion.
To get here, I travelled from Mostar in a shared transfer with two Turkish engineers and our driver - a native Montenegrin ex-con (don't ask). Our unlikely crew drifted pleasantly through the monotone landscape: stopping for coffee at a roadside diner, then again to take photos as we finally came into view of the magnificent Gulf of Kotor where the mountains sweep up from the bay, like spectacular waves made solid mid-curl, and the limestone cliffs of Lovcen and Orjen act to reinforce their theatrics.
Skirting around the edges of this sunken river valley, we admired the boats and beautiful bodies still bobbing in the bay despite the hour, and arrived outside the impressive Venetian-built walls girding this pocket-sized Mediterranean jewel just as she was growing dark with her own shadows - demonstrating the reason for the country's name, Crna Gora, or Montenegro (black mountain).
Clock tower in Kotor, Montenegro. Photo / Greta Umbers-
All that exquisite drama had left me fragile and in great need of food therapy. I farewelled my companions and hastened through the main gate (Morska Vrata or Sea Gate) into the heart of Kotor, where I parked my suitcase at a terrace table of the wildly popular Cafe Forza in the Square of Arms. Since cake is what they do best here, I obligingly ordered a pot of tea and, being a cherry-fiend, an obscene slice of the Moscow Torta which would be my "dinner" and panacea for my romantic ills. As the night set in and made itself comfortable I sank into the steady purr of its comings-and-goings, finished every last crumb, and took myself to bed.
I awoke early, with my desire for perspective gnawing at my heels, and as these ancient places always seem to instigate a philosophical unfolding - especially when experienced on foot and in relative solitude - I set out to climb to the Castle of San Giovanni (Castle of St John) before the heat set in and the tourist hordes from the cruise ships congested the crumbling steps. There are two points from where you can begin your ascent; one near the Gurdic Gate and the other near the River Gate (the main entrance).
I chose the latter, where a very handsome young man sold me a ticket and pointed me in the right direction - the only direction - which was up. The climb, although not brutal, does work up a sweat, and takes anywhere from two to four hours depending on your level of fitness and how many selfie stops you take. There certainly are plenty of opportunities to pause and show those pearlies; like the Church of Our Lady of Remedy, built in 1518, and the Chapel of St Ivan, which you must boldly climb through a hole in the wall to find. I don't know how long this Unesco World Heritage Site will remain so refreshingly relaxed about its health and safety precautions, but I'm glad I was able to respectfully clamber around its ruinous beauty, imagining all the confrontations it must have seen.
As you continue zigzagging along the ramparts, satisfyingly attaining measurable, if simple, victories over one series of stairs to the next, your rewards are glorious and addictive. And, when you make it to the summit, the revelatory aspect may just culminate in either a reinforcement or a change in your world view - as it did for me.
With my heart full and my puku empty, I made my wobbly descent back down to sea level, and upon re-entering civilisation was mindful not to step on one of the famous Kotor cats, the population of which is adorably out of control.
And, such as the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon would dictate, once you see your first one, you begin to see them everywhere. For instance: you step out of a shop and almost drop a hoof on a tiny black kitten laying flat out like a pair of undies that have fallen from the washing line above; or, whilst enjoying a makeshift picnic on the dock, you are joined by a furry guest with half an ear, who brazenly snuggles into your shadow after having pawed through your remaining pršut (cured ham) and ovčji sir (sheep's cheese) - but with faces like theirs who could complain.
There are cat souvenirs galore, and even a cat museum. I may be a 30-something and single, but I'm yet to go full "cat lady", therefore I opt to sniff out some lunch instead.
At the nub of the bay (a short walk outside the Old Town) you'll find Tanjga Grill, an unassuming butcher shop and grill-house with barbecued chickens at the door. I'd highly recommend you dismiss the aesthetics and give this place a go. These grill-masters are as laid back as you'd hope to find, even when the queue is stretching out the door.
Tucked behind the shop is a veranda with half a dozen tables where you can hide from the heat with an ice cold brew from the "bar" while you wait for your meal. It's down-home and pleasantly casual - a nice change from the more "upmarket" restaurants in the Old Town - and when my $5 sendvic (sandwich/burger) the size of my head arrived filled with a generous piece of perfectly grilled chicken breast, I couldn't help but fall a little in love.
Kampana Tower, Kotor, Montenegro. Photo / Greta Umbers
With my belly uncomfortably full, I decided it was the perfect time to force my "summer body" into a bathing suit and take a paddle on that redemptive water. Many kinds of seafaring vessels are available to hire but the single-birth kayak was perfect for this solo traveller. Taking the one-hour option, I soon regretted my laziness. The salt air had revived me, and as I had reached the point where the handsome man (so many handsome men) who'd leased me the boat had instructed me to make my return, I almost felt vigorous enough to continue rowing to Dubrovnik and back - less than a few hours away, if you're not powered by flabby arms alone.
Back on dry land, it was time to call it a day and retreat into a delicious glass (or two) of the local red, vranac, which inevitably led to a slow start the next morning. With giant coffee in hand, I blissfully moseyed through the labyrinth of alleyways overturning as many Medieval, Byzantine, Romanesque, and Venetian stones as I could, uncovering a mere whisker of the complex history of this region.
There are countless activities to pursue from this tiny port town, but with its rich maritime history I felt compelled to venture seaward again.
Kotor Boat Tours offer daily group voyages to view two of the bay's most popular attractions - though the majority of the 2.5-hour roundtrip is spent cruising along the humid hem of the bay.
Skimming by the island of St George, which contains a Benedictine monastery darkened by a small population of cypress trees, we made our first stop at the artificial island of Our Lady of the Rocks where the Roman Catholic church, a shrine for sailors seeking safe passage, houses a number of religious paintings, a collection of silver votive tablets, and an intricate tapestry made not only of gold and silver threads but also of human hair: a true testament to loyalty and love.
We were then ferried across to the pretty-as-a-picture village of Perast, on the mainland. But, with only 30 minutes to explore, you simply haven't enough time to see all of her faded loveliness, and can become quite the sweaty mess attempting to do so. Wearing the sticky dissatisfaction of having to leave so soon, I begrudgingly took my starboard seat and vowed to someday return.
Sailing back towards the Old Town, past the tiny towns stitched into the shore, I looked out over the nodding yachts and catamarans and deep into my bones and realised I felt safe, that their rhythm was a soothing pat by the Bay of Kotor's solid maternal arms encouraging all who rest in her bosom to unfurl in feline relaxation.
She doesn't ask anything of you, and consequently you find yourself able to reflect on more than just the still waters of the Adriatic.
CHECKLIST
Getting there
Emirates flies daily between Auckland and Zagreb, with a direct connection at Dubai. Economy class return fares are from $1699, including all taxes.
